Blue Eyes and Blood
by Daestwen
Summary: Chapter Four(newly added): This aren't going well in the Canadian seas, but finally there is a sign, and Hornblower and Bush find exactly what they are looking for.
1. Moonlit Icecaps

Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower, I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy. 

AN: I wanted to go more into the history in the Horatio Hornblower books, so with takes place on the Lydia, which is one of Horatio's later ships. (I believe it's the one in Beat to Quarters, though I could be wrong, and forgive me if I am.) Also, I'm sure the dates are wrong, but I'm sure I shall be forgiven. It is *SLASH*, though only as much as they suggest in the books themselves (which is obvious to anyone looking for it, really).

~*~

BLUE EYES AND BLOOD 

Chapter 1

Moonlit Icecaps

Lieutenant William Bush drew his cloak in closer around him, digging his face into his scarf. The icy wind pierced through blood and bone on the quarterdeck, but Bush was determined to stand still on his watch for his captain. He had never seen the North Atlantic before, and had a feeling that his captain had not either, but didn't ever bother to ask. Mr. Dawson, a young midshipman who reminded Bush very much of one Mr. Wellard, was looking out over the sea at the floating mountains of ice. It was odd, Bush reflected, to see them; giant white mounds protruding from the sea. It was somehow . . . unnatural. And yet it was too beautiful to put into words. So he didn't try.

His captain, Horatio Hornblower, was somewhere below decks, and Bush hoped he was sleeping. His captain slept very little while he was worrying, and he knew that his captain had much to worry about. 

A band of pirates had claimed the waters between Britain and Halifax, and the Admiralty had sent Hornblower out to stop them. The only question now was, how?

Bush rubbed the sleep from his eyes and shifted his cloak. It was late, and his watch was nearly completed. Just one more bell until he would be able to collapse into his hammock. Just one more. . .

"Good evening, Mr. Bush."

The sound startled Bush, and he turned quickly to see Hornblower emerging from the hold. A smile came to his lips before he could stop it.

"Evening, sir."

Hornblower, however, did not seem happy. His brows were furrowed, and his eyes held a deep sadness... Bush cocked an eyebrow at his captain, wondering what had upset him. 

"Do you know what day it is, Mr. Bush?" Horatio finally asked.

Bush shook his head, confusion slowly slipping in. "October the fifth, sir."

"October the fifth . . ." Horatio repeated slowly, and then understanding slowly dawned onto Bush's mind. 

"How many years has it been, sir?"

"Too many. Too many that he could have spent with us, and yet didn't." Horatio had started quietly, but had ended up bitter. Bush didn't reply as quick flashes of memory went across his mind. Blue eyes, cliff tops, a smile, and blood. Those were always the things that reminded him of Archie. Bush, however, had only known him a very short time, and he imagined that Horatio had many more things that linked to their old friend. Bush only hoped that he also would be so remembered after he was gone. He knew, in some vague way, that Hornblower would outlive him, if only because his captain must be immortal.

"I think..." Hornblower continued, startling Bush out of his thoughts, "That Archie would have like icebergs. Don't you think?"

Bush looked out at the mountains of ice, and nodded. "I think he would have appreciated them, sir."

"Very true..." 

Bush watched his captain, his idol, as he looked out at the ice, the dark shade beneath his eyes more than a trick of the light, and the murky depths of his irises sorrowful. _This_, Bush thought to himself, _Is a haunted man. And I do not know how to help him._

~*~

The days passed in Bush's favourite manner, with gun and sail drills everyday. The drills excited him, gave him something to do, for in reality, the _Lydia_ had not seen an enemy ship since they had left England. The men were being to wonder why they were here, and Bush was beginning to wonder if the pirates actually existed. Probably, but they would know well enough to stay away from the 36-gunned frigate. 

With complete joy Bush yelled at the men to reef the top sails, and then unreef them again. To run out the gun, fire them unloaded, and run them back in again. To have races up and down the rigging, and get the blood pumping in every single man aboard. 

Hornblower was ever like a shadow behind him, untalkative in the morning as always, and gloomy by evening. I happened for a little period of time every year, though not always so obviously. How Bush explained it to himself was that Hornblower was bored without the enemy. While they were normally engaged in battle around the anniversary of Archie's death, now they were doing nothing but looking. And looking for something that they had yet to find.

It was getting colder every day and every night, and Bush could only find comfort in stuffing his hands beneath his armpits on the late-night watches. Never, of course, in front of the men, so during the day he kept his fingers warm by merely stretching them often – though it did little good.

That was why, on October the 10th, a ragged and undisciplined cheer went up from the ship's crew as a thick black line appeared on the horizon.

"SILENCE!" Bush cried, trying to regain discipline, though he quivered with excitement.

"Mr. Dunlop," He said, walking over to a Midshipman who was busy studying the signal book on the lee side of the deck, "Would you please go and fetch the Captain from his cabin and tell him that his presence would be greatly appreciated on deck." Dunlop nodded, and ran down to fetch Hornblower, as Bush tried to suppress a grin. After weeks at see, they were finally there! It was Canada he was seeing, the western reach of the British Empire. Bush had never been to Canada before, but he could claim he had now! His mind was already thinking about the new supplies and men when his Captain appeared on deck.

"Your report, Mr. Bush."

"Land ahoy over the starboard bow, sir. Newfoundland if my calculations are correct, sir."

Hornblower nodded. It was too early to be sociable. 

"Very good. Take us into Halifax, and send up a signal for Captain Richardson of the _Insufferable_." 

Bush nodded, and wisely decided not to ask who Richardson was, or why they were looking forward. Instead, he shouted up directions for the new tack, and tried not to look over at his Captain, who stood with his hands clasped on the quarterdeck. It was a six hours before they were in signal range of Halifax, and Bush quickly ordered Midshipman Dawson up to the fighting top to count the sails.

"Nine ships, sir!" Dawson called down, his unbroken voice high-pitched on the wind, "Two Ships-of-the-Line, sir, one frigate, and six sloops! Probably merchants, sir." He added about the sloops. Bush nodded to himself, and yelled up to Dawson that he could return to the deck, and if he would please pass the information down to the Captain. Mr. Dawson would do so gladly, and Hornblower was soon on the deck.

"Send the signal up, Mr. Bush."

"Aye aye, sir." Bush said cheerfully, and the signals were run up. First the _Insufferable's_ number, then Richardson's name. Thorp, the 2nd Lieutenant who was up in the fighting top, called the response down to Hornblower.

"She's there, sir! Her Captain sends his response: 'Nice to see you, Captain Hornblower. Report for orders.'"

"Thank you, Thorp! Run up 'Affirmative', if you please." He turned to Bush, "Ready my jetty. I will leave Mr. Thorp in charge of the ship, and you will accompany me to the _Insufferable._"

"Aye aye, sir!" Cried Mr. Bush, trying desperately to hide his joy. 

"Then, I suppose we must go meet our Captain Richardson, and see exactly what is in store for us."

Bush didn't care, as long as Hornblower was in store for it as well.

***


	2. Captain Edward Richardson

Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower; I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy. 

~*~

BLUE EYES AND BLOOD

Chapter 2 

Captain Edward Richardson – Blue Eyes

The _Insufferable_ was a Third Rate Ship of the Line, with 74 guns in total. She was a ship that Bush greatly admired the minute he set eyes on her. Hornblower, Bush noted to himself, was still very quiet, but Bush could hardly keep himself from expressing his delight. The day itself seemed to be warmer than it had been for the past few weeks. The water lapped up around the jetty as it pulled along side the great three-decker. 

Bush watched his captain climb up the side of the ship, then clambered up after him, hearing the twittering of the bosun's whistles as he did so. His foot touched the deck, and he looked up at the party awaiting them. 

The man at the front was tall, his weather beaten hat giving the impression of being even more so. His hair was not grey, but so blond that it almost appeared white, and a long scar ran across one of his cheeks. His uniform was shabby, Bush noting that a piece of lace looked ready to fall off. He was smiling; a broad, inviting smile, and Bush felt a smile come to his lips in return. But it was his eyes that startled the unmoving Bush. His eyes were so very blue, and so very _familiar._ He could almost see Kennedy looking out at him from behind those eyes…

But then it was gone, and the man was saying something, which startled Bush out of his thoughts.

"Captain Hornblower I presume?" The man said, still smiling. Bush looked at his Captain and saw, not surprisingly, that he wasn't smiling.

"Yes, sir. And this is my first Lieutenant – Mr. William Bush."

"At your service, sir." Bush added. 

"Good, good! Welcome to the Americas, gentlemen!" He paused and then gave a short laugh, "You will excuse me, of course. I am Captain Edward Richardson, your service, I'm sure."

This, thought Bush, was a man of impeccably good humour, and he pondered on how he kept any discipline at all. Still, those eyes… 

Suddenly, however, the kind and homely face lost the smile. Without it, the scar seemed to pull at his skin, giving him a scowling impression. 

"I am afraid, Gentlemen, that you come at a most inopportune time… Though, I suppose, if it was not you would not have come at all…" He paused, "If you will care to have a small lunch with me, I shall explain your duties as we dine on the quarterdeck."

Bush looked to Hornblower, before murmuring his agreement after his Captain. 

Richardson's attendant, Mr. Hardy, served them as Richardson outlined the problem. Halifax, he said, was prime ship building ground, what with the endless amounts of forests around the area. However, there were many things that you couldn't get here, so the merchants made fortunes shipping luxuries to Halifax, and then shipping lumber back to England. However, a band of Pirates had stumbled onto this, and were capturing any traders it saw. Everyone was in an uproar, and the Government decided that military action had to be seen to. "So," he said in conclusion, "they sent me."

"Why did they send us?" Hornblower asked.

Richardson gave a shrug. "A ship of the line and a frigate against these pirates? We're just not enough… They're too smart to engage in battle, and if they need a port they just head down to New York were we can't touch them. The Americans either don't know they're pirates, or don't care… I suspect the last."

"Sir," Bush said, already sorry for intruding as he felt Hornblower's eyes on him, "But there are two Ships of the Line… surely…"

"Ah, you talk of the _Poison_. No, she is not of the Royal Navy. Captain Rosser, a British Privateer, leads her. They also are looking for the pirates, but for their own gain, I'm afraid. Rosser, however, is fairly amiable. You should endeavour to speak to the Captain. I'm sure you would find it to your pleasure." He added, once again looking at Hornblower. If he had any thoughts on this idea, Horatio didn't acknowledge them. 

The conversation turned to different matters, mostly discussions of 'good old England', before Hornblower stood to take his leave. 

"Very nice to meet you, Mr. Hornblower, and you as well, Mr. Bush." Richardson said, his smile returning in force as he shook their hands. "I expect I shall much enjoy having you here under my command. Though, I dare say, you'd do well on your own, eh?" He laughed to himself, "You have free reign, Mr. Hornblower! Do signal us as you come and go, but otherwise your orders are to merely find the buggers. Find them, Hornblower, and destroy them."

"I will do my best, sir." Hornblower replied, finally allowing a small smile to come to his lips. At least, Bush thought it was a smile, but it was so small that it might have just been his imagination.

"Good, good. And do pay a visit to Rosser. He may be able to help us, and god knows he doesn't like me very much. Good day!"

Hornblower and Bush each gave a small salute before they clambered their way back down to the jetty-boat.

Hornblower didn't say anything on the row back to the ship, merely looking deep in thought. Bush tried his hardest to bite back the urge to speak to his Captain – he could see he would only be snapped at, anyway. But he wanted to comfort himself that he was not alone in seeing it – that twinkle of Archie among those eyes. He wanted to know what Hornblower intended to do. Would he go and speak to the Privateer? Would he try and blockade them from New York? But Bush knew his Captain better than he did himself, and knew that if he asked his Captain it would only irritate him – something he would much rather not do. 

"Mr. Bush…" Hornblower's voice startled his First Lieutenant out of his thoughts. "I am going to retire once we are back aboard the _Lydia_. If you would be so kind as to send a message over to the _Poison_ with the request that her Captain join me for dinner? Do they have officers on a Privateer?"

"I don't know, sir. I suppose so."

"Then ask for them as well. Wake me as soon as you get a reply."

"Aye aye, sir. Should I still wake you if they say no?"

"You shall wake me if they say anything, Mr. Bush." 

"Aye aye, sir." Bush repeated. He paused, before continuing. "Sir?"

"Yes, Mr. Bush?"

"Well, sir… I was wondering if… Captain Richardson, sir…"

"Go on."

"I just…" He wanted to say something about those eyes, but couldn't bring himself to do it, "He's a good man, sir. You didn't seem pleased with him…"

"On the contrary, Mr. Bush, I enjoyed his company very much." But it was said coldly, far away, and told Bush that it wasn't the truth. Bush did not try to delve deeper, as the jetty finally came alongside the _Lydia_ again.

***


	3. Admiration, Loyalty, Devotion

Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower, I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy.  
~*~  
BLUE EYES AND BLOOD  
Chapter 2  
Admiration, Loyalty and Devotion  
  
William Bush stood tentatively outside his Captain's quarters, his hand almost on the handle, but refraining from opening the door. Captain Rosser had sent his message back fairly quickly, it being that he and his first mate would love to join Captain Hornblower for dinner. Bush stood, not really afraid to go in, but more worried about it. His Captain was asleep. Bush could hear the deep breaths of sleep even from here. Hornblower had slept very little lately, and Bush would prefer if his Captain got as much rest as possible. After all, dinner was not for a few hours yet, he could let Hornblower sleep....  
  
But Hornblower, as always, had demanded that he be told the second a reply came from Rosser, and Bush was not one to disobey his Captain's commands.   
  
Taking a deep breath, Bush slowly pushed the cabin door - it was unlocked.  
  
"Sir?" He said quietly. There was no reply.  
  
"Sir?" He said again, a little louder.  
  
"Archie?" The voice was Hornblower's, but it was spoken as if through water. Groggily, dreamily, and unbeknowenst to the speaker.  
  
"No, sir, It's Lieutenant Bush, sir." Bush said, taking another slow step into the cabin.  
  
"Archie, does your head hurt?"  
  
The question was so very bizarre that it confused Bush for a good few seconds, until he replied: "Er - No, sir."  
  
He took another step, and was now close enough to see Hornblower, sprawled out across his cot, one hand under his head. His eyes were shut tight, his brow furrowed a little in sleep.  
  
"Archie..."  
  
"Sir, I'm Bush, sir." Bush said desperately, "Wake up, sir."  
  
"Bush? Oh... yes... Archie's dead..." Hornblower was beginning to awaken, coming out of his sleep talking slowly. "But he's not... I saw him today..."  
  
"Sir, you said to wake you up.."  
  
"I saw him, I'm sure of it... Those eyes... I'd remember those eyes anywhere..."  
  
Bush felt a pang of pity, and then a quick flash of guilt. He shouldn't be hearing this. These were his Captain's private thoughts... They were not for Bush to hear...  
  
"That was Captain Richardson, sir. Archie - - Mr. Kennedy is not - - "  
  
"Oh... that's right..." His eyes seemed to flutter, and he paused, every muscle unmoving.  
  
"What time is it, Mr. Bush?"  
  
"Just past 6 bells, sir."  
  
Hornblower said something unintelligable, and shifted his position to sit up. He looked at Bush, and the First Lieutenant quickly tried to hide all traces of worry upon his face, but knew he hadn't done it. Hornblower frowned.  
  
"What did you come for, Mr. Bush?"  
  
"I didn't want to wake you, sir, but you said to alert you the minute that Rosser sent a message, sir..."  
  
"Yes, yes, what is it?" Hornblower asked impatiently. Either he didn't remember the small conversation he had just had, or he didn't want to remember it.  
  
"He says he'll come, sir. And his first mate, sir."  
  
"Good, good, well done." These were not said with praise, but with a gruffness that made them sound more like an indirect apology for earlier behavior. Still, it took all of Bush's willpower not to smile.  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
"Would you tell the cook to prepare the best meal he can with our new suplies?"   
  
"Yes, sir. Aye aye, sir." Bush paused, knowing that there was something that he should say, and yet not not knowing what it was. "Yes, sir." He said again, tipped his hat, and ducked out of the cabin.  
  
*  
  
"Boat coming along side, sir!" Mr. Dawson cried, down to Bush on the quarter deck. It was not his watch, but Hornblower had requested that he be on deck for Rosser's arrivial.  
  
"Very well, Mr. Dawson, go and fetch the Captain, if you please." Bush said, and watched the boy scamper down the hold to retrieve Hornblower. Since his Captain had been expecting the call, he was up within two minutes of Dawson running to get him, and stepped alongside Bush just as the jetty pulled up along side. They both walked to the railing, and watched as the two privateers made their way up the side.  
  
The first one to swing his legs over the side stepped up to Hornblower and extended a hand. He wasn't young, his dark brown hair littered with streaks of grey. It sat out at unruly angles, though he had tried to tame some of it into a hurried pigtail. His eyes were grey - a pure grey with no green or blue tint. They reminded Bush of the iceburgs.   
  
Hornblower shook the proffered hand, and the two men stood staring at eachother for a few minutes. Bush noted the slight difference in size, the new man standing only an inch or so above Hornblower, though somehow both looking to be exactly the same.  
  
"Captain Horatio Hornblower, I presume?" He asked. There was a ghost of a smile on his lips, but it had a sarcastic touch to it. As if smiling to a joke only he understood.  
  
"Captain James Rosser." Hornblower said in reply. He was not smiling openly, but Bush could see the smile in his eyes.  
  
"If you would allow me to introduce my First Lieutenant, Mr. William Bush." Hornblower said formally, using his hand to indicate Bush. Rosser nodded, as his own first mate arrived beside him.  
  
"This is my first mate, Lizzy Cathor."  
  
The man he pointed to wasn't a man at all. It was a woman, dressed in a jacket, waistcoat and breeches. She wasn't beautiful, she had a small scar beneath her chin, and one of her green eyes was misty and opaque. Her hair was a brilliant red, but it had tar through it, and she had wrapped it into a long pigtail down her back. Her lip twitched into a small smile, and Bush quickly snapped his jaw shut - he had been gaping. He glanced quickly at Hornblower, who was wearing a small frown.  
  
"You're both very welcome, Captain Rosser. Ms. Cathor."  
  
"Mister does me fine, Captain Hornblower." Lizzy said, an amused smile had taken her lips over now. "Dicipline, you understand."   
  
Hornblower nodded. "If you would both follow me, my steward has arranged a meal for us in my quaters."  
  
The group followed, and soon all three were sitting around the table. Bush didn't talk much, as he felt that he never really had much to say around his Captain. Hornblower said everything Bush would ever think of saying, and a thousand things more. Later in the evening, Hornblower took Rosser aside, dismissing both Bush and Cathor so that the two Captains could have a small, hurried discusion. Bush oliged him, and both he hand Cathor walked up to the quarterdeck.  
  
"You seemed a little shocked, Mr. Bush, when I came aboard." Cathor mused, the same smile tugging her lips. It wasn't a full smile, but still...  
  
"You'll forgive me, ma'am."   
  
"Sir." She corrected immediately - she had already corrected him on this point several times.  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"So you're out after the pirates as well, eh?" She asked, with a small chuckle. Her accent was garbled, a mix. A bit of England, a bit of Ireland, a bit of America... And a bit of French Canadian, Bush thought, though he had never heard it.  
  
"It appears so, yes." Bush said.   
  
"And I suppose you'll find them, s'well." Cathor said thoughtfully. "Your Captain seems very able, Mr. Bush."  
  
"Aye, he is." Bush said, trying not to let his breast swell with pride. It didn't work.  
  
Cathor looked at him, a sideways look, a searching, mischevious look, accompanied by a smile - - a smile Bush had seen before...   
  
"You know," She continued, "The men of our crew say I'm pyschic." She grinned, pointing to her opaque eye, "They say I gave one eye, and gained an eye for the future." She chuckled, a throaty sound deep in her throat. "It's all codswallop, of course. Though... Sometimes... You serve Mr. Hornblower right and well, yeh hear? I think he needs you a lot more than he puts on." She smiled, not the odd sardonic-chuckle smile, but a worn, knowing smile. He had seen it before, he knew he had...  
  
"-lovely ship, Captain Hornblower, I commend you." It was Rosser's voice, and both Bush and Cathor turned to see their Captains come up from the hold. For a second they both held the same expression - Admiration, Loyalty, Devotion. And then it was gone.  
  
"Lizzy, it's time we got going." Rosser said as they walked over. Hornblower gave a small, secluded smile to Bush - he was pleased. Which, of course, in turn made Bush pleased.  
  
It took about ten minutes for the two privateers to disembark, and there were smiles and waves (and a few whistles) from the crew as they did so.  
  
"Mr. Bush..." Hornblower started. He was smiling. It was only a small smile, a grim smile, but it was the best thing Bush had seen for weeks.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"I think, Mr. Bush, that our luck is about to change."  
  
~*~ 


	4. Waves on Clifftops

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update, but life's been dragging me down, so I've been slow to write. Haven't seen the third series yet, and I think I shall die knowing it exists and that I haven't seen it. Oh the horror!   
  
Disclaimer: C.S. Forester is the mastermind behind everything Horatio Hornblower, I just attempt to expand on it. Also thanks to A&E for their expansion on our beloved Mr. Kennedy.  
  
~*~  
  
BLUE EYES AND BLOOD  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Waves on Clifftops  
  
*  
  
Mr. William Bush stood, his telescope to his eye, leaning a little over the railing of the foredeck, staring at the small fishing boat on the horizon. The last three weeks had been agonizingly slow, as they pulled in fishermen and tradesmen, trying to get some idea of the whereabouts of the privateers. In a later meeting with Captain Richardson, the blue-eyed man had said that the traders had almost deserted these northern waters, for fear of the pirates. The local fishermen still went out to catch the cod, but they kept close to the shores, and were reluctant to talk to either Hornblower, or the Privateer Captain. And through the three weeks Bush had heard a dozen rumours of Richardson's laziness, and it seemed that Hornblower himself was inclined to believe them. Bush, however, left the judgement to his Captain - it was not his to make.  
  
The particular boat he was watching had evaded them for days, which had made the already grumpy Hornblower quite aggitated, and they were now hunting it like hounds on a fox. Not that Bush minded, it gave the men something to do. Gave him something to do.  
  
Because they were so close to shore, a couple men here and there had deserted, as men this close to shore on this boring of a job tend to do.   
  
Captain Rosser and the Poison had headed down to New York to snuff the pirates out, and were due back any day, to Bush's great relief. His Captain was stressed, and Bush heard more snaps than kind words these days, but he told himself that he understood and that his Captain was aloud to be angry at a situation that seemed not entirely under his control.  
  
"We're making time on her, sir, will catch her 'fore the noon sun." The Second Lieutenant, Mr. Thorp, who was technically on watch.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Thorp. I'll go and report to the Captain." Which is what Bush did.  
  
The rest of the day went rather dully, though they did catch up to the fisherman. It was the same thing they always heard. No, we don't know where they are, we can't really help you with that, but you go get the buggers, Mr. Hornblower, and would you like some fish in the meantime? Hornblower always bought just a little, and they'd smile, and Hornblower would glower at the fish when they left and give it to the officer's mess. It was until the sun and set, and Bush had retired to his bunk, that anything happened. Two of the men had gotten into a fight, and somehow had set a small fire in one of the cables, which had set the entire ship into an uproar until it was out, and had gotten Bush a very heated lecture in the meantime.  
  
"Sir, the men are downcast..." Bush was saying in his own defence to Hornblower, who was only half in uniform and glaring at his Lieutenant with utter fury. "They're bored, sir, and the one must've knocked down the lantern - -"   
  
Horatio scowled, shifting on his feet. Bush knew what was going through his mind - an example must be made.  
  
"Very well, Mr. Bush, bring them both to my quarters immediately. And bring Mr. Thorp with you."  
  
That discussion ended with both men being flogged, and even more glares and sideways glances from the men. The smarter ones could understand, but the others felt repressed - even if they'd seen the flames. Bush was getting worried. If moral carried on like this, they could be in danger...  
  
Bush himself could feel how low his spirits were. He had taken to counting the smiles he got from his captain, and they were growing few and far between. Hope wasn't to come until after yet another agonozing half week, Mr. Dawson came jumping giddily down into the ward room.  
  
"Mr. Bush! Mr. Bush, sir!" He sang, though his voice had within these last few weeks begun to crack.  
  
"Mr. Dawson, you know very well you aren't to come in here without permission. What do you want?" Third Lieutenant Gracen snapped in the boy's direction - everyone was wearing thin these days.  
  
"Sir," Dawson continued, partially ignoring Gracen and staring right at Bush, "It's the Poison, sir! She's here, sir!"  
  
Bush didn't bother to excuse himself as he pushed past the midshipman, and half ran up to the deck, pulling the sleeve of his jacket on his loose arm. He came straight up to the railing, looking out onto the horizon where half the crew was looking. And there she was.   
  
"By god!" He cried before he could stop himself, "Mr. Dawson!"   
  
The boy had been running up behind him. "Sir?"  
  
"Go fetch the Captain immediately. Look lively!"  
  
"Aye aye, sir!" Dawson cried in return, and scampered down the hold.   
  
*  
  
At dinner that night, Hornblower had two guests - his First Lieutenant, and one Captain James Rosser. The latter looked giddy, if it was possible to describe the man like that, his iceberg eyes alight with silver flames. He seemed unable to keep still, and didn't eat as all as he laid out his story to the two naval officers.   
  
"We snuck right into port, clean as you can be. The American's don't care, see, so they didn't give us much trouble, but one of the pirates got whiff of us, I think. Sent a crew over to try to burn the ship as we sat in the bay! The poor suckers, we caught them before they could light a single torch. But one of them had enough wits about him to talk, so let's just say we held a little inquiry. He told us that the pirates don't keep to New York, 'cause the authorities once got in a bit of trouble with them. So they keep to this bay, up in the North, during the summer, and head down to one closer to New York in the winter. 'E said that they should be switching up soon, the night's are getting too cold to keep in the North, but they're taking their time because they don't want to run into you, see? Holding with me, so far?"  
  
"I'm with you, Captain Rosser." Hornblower said slowly.   
  
"Good. So, my mate Lizzy hired us a small boat, a cutter as you'd say, and she's parked with a quarter of my crew in the bay. She's going to wait there till they come in, and I'm going to come up from behind them and lock 'em in."  
  
"Do you know how many of them are there?"  
  
"About four ships, schooners, so I've heard.Can't have more than 40 guns each."  
  
"But you have only 72." Horatio replied, "And am I right in suspecting that we are allowed to join in this adventure?"  
  
"Allowed, sir? You're invited! There is, of course, just one thing that we must settle out before hand, of course." The grey man's voice suddenly took on a very different tone.  
  
"Go on, Captain Rosser."  
  
"You must understand, Mr. Hornblower, that I'm not out for glory, or even King and Country. I'm as loyal a man to my king as any I know, but I'm even more loyal to his gold. We're after prize money, Mr. Hornblower, and I'm well aquainted with the Navy's hogging of it. I think that you're a good man, if I may say so, sir, but there are... some... that might think a privateer is below his own good standing." His grey eyes flashed with something indistinguishable. "I mean no offence, Mr. Hornblower, just looking out for my interests and my crew." He paused, his eyes locked on Hornblower's own.   
  
Slowly Hornblower nodded. "Yes. Yes, of course. You shall have your fair share of the prize money, Captain Rosser, if not more than you deserve."  
  
"Good!" Rosser said, cheerfull once again, and grinned, "Very good! I think we shall have a very profitable relationship, eh, you and I? Good, good, good. Now, I better get back to my own ship, and if ye'd be so kind as to follow me, I'll show you our net made of cliffs!" He laughed, and Bush felt a darkness creep into his heart.  
  
~*~ 


End file.
